


Burn it to the Ground

by Delanach



Category: Queer as Folk (US), Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-14
Updated: 2012-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-07 18:23:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delanach/pseuds/Delanach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something is stalking the party goers of Babylon, the club the QAF boys hang out at, and major players are turning up dead under strange circumstances. Sam and Dean head to Pittsburgh to investigate, but they end up finding more than the angry spirit that ends up being the cause. Sam finds Brian, revealing a side of himself that his brother didn’t know about. Dean is confused by how it all makes him feel and is befriended by Emmett, who helps him through his crisis. But once the Winchesters leave town, will they find their own happy ending?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn it to the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> SPN/QAF US crossover written for the Sncross Bigbang on LJ. Art by deadflowers5 on LJ. Set in an undetermined time in both the SPN and QAF timelines. No mention of major canon points from either show.

The heavy beat of music pulsed from Babylon every time the doors opened to let someone in or out. It oozed out into the night, thick and intoxicating, enticing the bold and the beautiful of Pittsburgh into its depths to party. A tall man stood in the shadows across from the entrance. The glowing tip of his cigarette lit up his face as he drew on it, illuminating classically handsome features. 

He watched them come and go. Young men, bright and vibrant, full of life. In a different time, he’d been one of them, drawing admiring gazes and leaving with whomever he wanted. There’d been more discretion back then, and no open displays of affection outside the safety of the club. Now, it seemed to be common place to touch, to walk off into the night entwined around each other. 

He took one last draw, then threw his cigarette down, grinding it under his shoe as he stepped out of the shadows and towards the club.

 

Taylor Harrison lost himself in the music on the dance floor, his white shirt stuck to his skin, his eyes almost closed as he moved. The club was packed, and the partygoers on the dance floor twisted and spun in close quarters, their bodies working together almost in concert as they danced.

Taylor grinned as someone slid in front of him, dark eyes full of lust and promises as the man plastered himself to Taylor’s body. He recognized him from the previous week and thought his name might be Don, or Dan or something. They’d ended up at Taylor’s apartment, and as soon as Taylor was done with him, he’d politely kicked him out. Taylor smiled, half hard in his tight jeans, knowing he could take the Don into the back room and fuck him right there if he wanted to. He could have his pick of partners. All he had to do was turn his gaze on whoever he wanted in his bed, and they’d be there. It was a dizzying thought, and he pulled the man closer, kissing him as they writhed together. The music changed and Don slipped his arms around Taylor’s neck.

“Do you wanna get out of here? My place is just around the corner ...”

Over Don’s shoulder, Taylor spied a man standing at the end of the bar who looked out of place amongst the half dressed clientele of the club. His slicked back hair complemented the expensively tailored suit he wore, and as he sipped on his drink, his eyes raked over Taylor, and a smirk played around his lips.

“Some other time.” Taylor untangled Don’s arms from around his neck and walked towards the man at the bar without a backward glance.

“I like your outfit. Costume party, right?” Taylor grinned at the stranger.

“No.” The stranger shrugged and went back to his drink.

Taylor moved closer, not used to having to work at picking someone up, but feeling the thrill of the challenge.

“Would you like to get out of here? Go somewhere quieter?”

“Where did you have in mind?” The stranger moved his hand, and ran his thumb over the back of Taylor’s fingers.

“My ... my apartment’s only a few blocks away.” Taylor stuttered, the small touch feeling more intimate than all Don’s groping on the dance floor had. 

“And why would I want to go home with you?” The stranger asked, his dark eyes almost menacing.

Taylor shivered, lust curling its way down his spine.

“I saw you watching me, I know you want me.” Brazenly, he jutted his hips forward, gratified when the stranger’s gaze slid down his body again. The need to please the man was alien to him, usually, it was the other way round, and he liked being the predator, but here, he felt more like the prey. And he ached for the man to take the bait.

The stranger finished his drink and stood up with a smile. “Lead on.”

Taylor grinned, and walked towards the doors, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the stranger was following him, impatient to get him alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~

In one of the nicer motel rooms the Winchester brothers had stayed in, Dean sprawled on the bed looking through take out menus as Sam sat at the small dining table with his laptop open, researching a possible case. Dean rolled onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows, watching Sam as his brother talked.

“So whatever this thing is, it preys on narcissists. The three men it’s killed so far have all been major players on the local gay scene, known for their decadent lifestyles.” Sam flicked through the police report online. “Well off, good looking, never short of company.”

“I don’t know, Sam, maybe it’s just some guy all three managed to piss off, out for revenge, or some homophobic asshole.” Dean sighed, hunger beginning to claw at his belly. “Not sure it’s our kind of gig.” 

Sam looked at him over the laptop lid. “They were reduced to ash with no signs of an accelerant and hardly any damage to the surrounding area. How is what looks like three cases of spontaneous human combustion not our kind of gig?”

Sam went back to studying the screen and read out what he’d found. “They all hung out at the same club. Babylon. It’s got an interesting history.”

“Yeah?” Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and picked up his favourite gun and a cloth.

“Yeah. It was a gentlemen’s club way back in the late 1950’s.”

“Gentlemen’s club?” Dean raised an eyebrow, and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Yes, and it was burnt out in May 1959. There was one fatality, Byron Mercer.”

“He burned? If it’s his spirit, it’s gonna be tough to salt and burn the bones if he’s already ashes.”

Sam nodded. “All the same, I think we should check it out. Byron was also known as a local lothario, very handsome too.” He stared at the photo on the screen, of a well dressed man with slicked back hair and an arrogant look in his eye.

“Handsome?” Dean walked around and peered over Sam’s shoulder. “Suppose he was.” He shrugged.

“So are we gonna look into it?” Sam turned and felt Dean’s breath warm on his cheek, he was standing so close behind him.

“Okay,” Dean agreed and grabbed his coat from the bed. “Now can we get something to eat?”

“As long as it’s not burgers again. Or pizza. Or chicken wings.” Sam grinned as he picked up his own jacket and slipped it on. “Or pancakes.”

“How about waffles? Don’t think there’s an organic tofu dog stand in town, Sammy, and we’ve gotta eat something.” Dean grinned back and ducked out of the way of a swat from Sam.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The Impala rolled into Pittsburgh the next day and it wasn’t hard to find a motel a few blocks from Babylon to use as a base so Sam and Dean could check the place out.

Dean was in and out of the bathroom in ten minutes, showered, shaved and patting his damp hair into place as Sam brushed past him with a bunch of stuff from his bag under his arm. The lock clicked into place behind him, and Dean wandered towards the bed where his bag sat, and rummaged around, looking for a clean pair of jeans. He wasn’t sure about what he should be wearing to a club where there wouldn’t be any chicks to pick up. He’d flirted with men before, mainly to get information out of them, and he could appreciate a good looking dude, he guessed. As long as no-one asked him to dance, he’d be fine. He wasn’t keen on dancing with girls unless it was slow and close and a prelude to hot sex, so there’s no way he was planning to hit the dance floor in a gay club. 

They’d decided earlier to split up before they got there, go in separately. It meant Sam could mingle with the locals and Dean could scope out the club, while keeping an eye on each other’s backs. Dean would have preferred that they stick together, go in as a team, but he could see the logic in Sam’s plan. His only reservation was that Sam had been almost jumpy since they’d hit town, which was making Dean antsy.

“You ever coming out of there?” Dean sighed, pulling on a white tee and debating whether to wear a shirt on top. He finally decided against it. “C’mon, Samantha, what’s taking so ...”

Dean stopped mid sentence when the bathroom door finally opened and his brother stepped through it. At least he thought it was his brother. Sam was dressed in tight black pants and a sleeveless black shirt that fit him like a second skin. His usually messy hair had been tamed and, well, sleek was the word that came to mind. There was also something different about his eyes …

“Are you wearing eyeliner?” Dean asked suspiciously as Sam walked by him to sit on the bed and pull on his boots.

“A little. We have to look the part, Dean.”

“Look the part? I ain’t wearing eyeliner, Sammy.”

“You don’t have to,” Sam smiled, looking Dean up and down. Dean’s trademark jeans paired with the close fitting white t shirt looked good on Dean. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll fit right in.” Sam smirked as Dean blustered, not knowing whether it had been a compliment or not.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Something was stalking the party-goers on Liberty Avenue, something that was out for blood and seemed to disappear after each crime as if into thin air.

“He burns them?” Emmett had spent most of the evening glancing over his shoulder as if he was going to be snatched away by the killer at any second. Michael smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, Em, he wouldn’t touch you with us around to protect you.”

“No offence, Mikey, but you’re not exactly Captain Astro.” He pulled a personal alarm and a pepper spray out of his jacket and Michael threw his hands up.

“Watch what you’re doing with that, okay?”

Emmett rolled his eyes and stuffed his protection kit back in his bag.

“Yes,” Justin butted in. “He burns them to ash, but the police haven’t figured out how.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like an unsolved mystery. Hardly anything around the bodies is burned. Their apartments were hardly damaged. They say it looks like spontaneous human combustion.”

“Eeeeew.” Emmett scrunched his face up.

“Why so serious?” Brian snuck up behind Justin and snaked his arms around Justin’s waist. He glanced around the small group, and smirked. “Oh, the Narcissist Killer. Apparently, he only targets the most handsome, the most desirable. So the rest of you have got nothing to worry about.”

Justin rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“So you’d better be careful, Brian,” Ted quipped. “Wouldn’t want you to end up barbecued.”

Justin scowled and punched Ted’s shoulder.

“Well, if he is going after the best, he’s obviously working up to the main event.” Brian smirked, but stepped back as Justin wrenched away from his embrace.

“How can you joke about it?” Justin yelled at Brian and stormed off. Brian paused then took off after him with a long suffering sigh.

“Ah, true love.” Ted watched them go.

Michael was still scowling at him when Emmett gasped and, following his friend’s gaze, he saw exactly what had grasped his attention.

“Yes, true love!” Emmett stared openly at the tall man standing shyly just inside the doorway. He was well over six feet tall with soft, silky dark hair, dressed from head to toe in skin-tight black which showed off toned and very nicely muscled arms.

“I've never seen him around before,” Ted commented. “And if Brian thinks he’s king of the hill, he’d better watch out if he sticks around.” But Emmett was already on his feet.

“Where are you going?” Michael asked.

“Seizing the moment,” Emmett replied as he got up, ran down the stairs and strode across the dance floor.

“What’s gotten into him?” Michael turned to Ted.

“Not sure, but I think I can guess what he’d _like_ to get into him.”

 

Sam paused as he walked into the club. It had been a while since he'd hung out anywhere like this and knowing Dean wasn't far behind him was making him self-conscious. It felt like the first time he’d walked into a gay club, not long after he’d started at Stanford. The freedom he’d found away from his family, away from Dean, had been both scary and exhilarating, and it had given him the chance to explore sides of himself that he’d kept hidden. Not that he thought Dean or John would have judged him for not knowing whether he was into men or women, it had just been easier when he could make his own explorations and mistakes out of the family spotlight. He’d also kept it quiet because his first crush on a boy had been on Dean.

Now standing in the doorway to Babylon, watching the dancers on the dance floor writhe in ways he couldn’t help but find attractive, he was nervous about Dean seeing his reactions. It was almost like being fifteen again, and having to hide a very inappropriate erection that sprouted as Dean walked out of the bathroom, stark naked, yelling about Sam using all the towels as Sam watched rivulets of water run down Dean’s skin.

Sam took a deep breath, almost ready to bolt, to tell Dean that this was a bad idea, when a hand crept onto his shoulder. He turned to see who it belonged to, he found himself looking into a friendly face with a warm smile.

"Would you like to dance?" Emmett asked.

"Uh, yeah, okay," Sam smiled back and Emmett's hand slid down his arm, took his hand and tugged him towards the dance floor.

"I'm Emmett. Haven't seen you in here before."

"I'm Sam, and this is my first time. Here that is, my first time here, not my first time dancing. Or anything. That is ..," Sam flustered.

"It's okay, sweetie. There's nothing wrong with being a little out of practice." Emmett grinned at Sam's nervous rambling. Drop dead gorgeous and sweet. That didn't come along very often.

Sam blushed all the way down to his toes and Emmett moved closer as the music changed, the beat becoming heavier. Sam relaxed, moving his body in concert with Emmett's until they were both sweating and grinning.

"Drink?" Emmett shouted above the din.

"Sure!" Sam nodded and followed him to the bar. Drinks in hand, they lounged against the counter.

"Sam, do you have a jealous ex?"

"No. Why?"

"Because there's someone watching us and he seems kind of pissed." Emmet looked pointedly over Sam’s shoulder.

Sam turned to look in the direction Emmett had indicated and looked straight at Dean. Dean who was scowling at them and not exactly blending in.

"No, never seen him before," Sam lied effortlessly.

Emmett gasped in shock and horror as he put two and two together and came up with nine. Sam looked at him with concern.

"Are you okay?"

Emmett shook his head.

"It might be him!" he hissed at Sam.

"Him?"

"The guy who's burning people up." Emmett grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him towards Michael and Ted muttering. "There's safety in numbers."

Sam glanced back over his shoulder at Dean who _was_ doing a great impression of a serial killer, which really hadn't been the idea.

"This is Sam," Emmett said, introducing Sam to his friends.

"And I think that’s the killer," Emmett hissed, nodding none too discretely in Dean's direction. "He's been watching Sam since he arrived. Just look at him!"

Michael and Ted stared over at Dean then back at Sam, who had to nod in agreement.

"He has, but I'm sure he's not ..."

Emmett meeped as Dean walked past and shot Sam a look that could well have killed a lesser man. Ted's eyes widened.

"Well he _is_ new, and he _does_ have an attitude problem."

"And he is kind of hot." Michael's eyes followed Dean as he stalked away.

Ted rolled his eyes. "What is it with you and jerks?"

Michael scowled at Ted while Sam made observations on the little group's dynamics and wondered what had crawled up Dean's ass and died. His idiot of a brother was supposed to be scoping out the club, watching for anything unusual and keeping a discreet eye on Sam while he mingled with the regulars, but no, he had to draw attention to himself for all the wrong reasons.

"That settles it. Sam is coming home with us."

"I am?"

"He is?"

"And who's this?" Brian drawled from behind them, making Emmett jump.

"This is Sam, and I think the killer may have targeted him."

"Really?" Brian looked Sam up and down, his eyes raking over his well muscled form.

"Yes. _He_ has been watching him all night." Emmet nodded discretely in Dean’s direction.

Brian turned and gave Dean, now standing at the bar, the same open appraisal he’d given Sam. Sam could see his brother bristling even from where he was standing.

"Hmmm ... he's new too," Brian observed, noting the heated challenge in Dean's eyes. "Arrogant son of a bitch."

"Pot? Kettle?" Ted said.

Brian gave him a withering look and turned his attentions back to Dean.

"Bet I could fuck that right out of him."

Sam choked on the mouthful of beer he'd just taken and Brain eyed him as Emmett patted him on the back.

"So both of you turn up on the same night. Stalker," Brian nodded at Dean and Dean's eyes narrowed. "And Stalkee." He looked at Sam. "So who are you two? Undercover cops?"

"No! I've never seen him before."

"Are you even gay?" Brian peered at Sam suspiciously, suddenly right in his face.

The challenge in Brian’s eyes was too much to ignore, and before he thought about what he was doing, Sam slammed his mouth against Brian’s, snaking an arm around his waist and pulling him closer. Brian gave as good as he got, digging his fingers into Sam’s hair and ravaging his mouth. When they broke apart, Sam’s lips felt overly sensitive and he wanted more.

“I guess that answered his question,” Emmett sighed as Brian pulled Sam downstairs and into the writhing mass of dancers, but his train of thought was knocked off the tracks by the look on the potential serial killer's face as he watched them go. It wasn't the murderous look he'd been shooting them before, no, this was a much more familiar look. Emmett had seen it on Mikey's face often enough to recognise it. It was the same look Mikey got when Brian got off with someone new. Guilty, hurt longing for something he couldn't have.

"Huh." Emmett set off towards Dean with determination on his face.

"NOW where's he going?" Ted asked in an exasperated tone.

"To pick up a serial killer?" Michael looked worried as his friend approached the stranger at the bar.

“Hey, handsome, you want to …”

“Not now,” Dean snapped as he watched Brian’s hands cup Sam’s ass and pull him closer. Sam bit his bottom lip and Dean stood open mouthed as his little brother let the stranger maul him. Brian whispered in Sam’s ear as he looked over his shoulder at Dean and Dean’s hackles rose. The creep was taunting him, but what was he supposed to do? Sam wasn't objecting.

Emmett huffed and ordered a couple of shots instead, changing his tactics. He turned to talk to Dean as he waited for them to arrive.

"So you're Sam's friend?"

"What?" Dean looked at the tall blond who Sam had been dancing with earlier and wondered what Sam had said. He decided to play it dumb just in case. "Sorry, I don't know any Sam."

"Yes you do," Emmett smiled, determined to find out what was going on between the two newcomers. "Tall guy, dressed in black, dancing with the biggest predator on Liberty Avenue."

Dean's eyes narrowed again as Brian's hand slipped around Sam's waist and pulled them tightly together. Emmett saw Dean's jaw twitch as Brian kissed Sam's neck and Sam's fingers dug into Brian's hair. As they turned, Dean froze. Sam's eyes were so blown with lust, desire or something along those lines that Dean had never seen firsthand, that they looked demonic.

"Christo," Dean whispered as if it would chase whatever was obviously possessing Sam away and he could get his brother back. He turned away and leaned on the bar, startled when a shot glass was placed in front of him.

"You look like a Jack Daniels man to me, and watching Brian at work is enough to drive anyone to drink."

Dean looked at the glass, then up at Emmett, then down at the glass again. He downed it and stuck it back on the bar, motioning for the bartender to fill it up again.

"How long have you wanted him?"

"Come again?"

"Sam. How long have you carried this unrequited lust around for him?"

"I don't want him! And there's no lust. At all. He's ..."

"He's a good friend and you've never told him how you feel?" Emmett helpfully filled in.

"No! He's ...," Dean bit back, hesitating to let Emmett know Sam was his brother. "No, I don't have feelings and I'm not, I'm not gay."

Emmett raised an eyebrow.

"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt, honey."

Dean downed another shot, and tried to focus on the case, tried to forget about what was happening on the dance floor behind him.

"Look, okay, you got me. I do know him. We're reporters working on a story about the Narcissist Killer. We thought coming here and getting to know a few regulars might give us an insight into what was going on, a new angle on the story since the cops aren't making much headway on the case." Dean turned and scanned the dance floor, brow furrowing when he couldn't see Sam.

"Reporters? Well, why don't I introduce you to some friends of mine. We're all regulars and would love to help. Which paper do you work for?"

"We're freelance. Where did they go?"

Emmett scanned the club.

"The way they were glued together, they're probably in the back room by now. Come on, I'll introduce you to Mikey. I think he’s got the hots for you already, maybe he can help with the denial." Emmett put his hand on Dean's arm, but Dean shook it off.

"Where's the back room?"

"They’ll be out when they’re done. Let me get you another drink." Emmett was beginning to get concerned at the look in Dean's eyes as he continued to look around for Sam. He didn't think it would be a good idea for Dean to see what was most likely going on between Sam and Brian, not if Emmett was right and Dean did have feelings for his friend.

"I don't want a drink, I need to see Sam. Right now." There was a determined set to Dean's jaw, and Emmett pointed to an archway in the far back corner of the club. Dean took off, dodging amongst the dancers and Emmett followed him, feeling partly responsible for anything that might happen.

 

Brian took Sam's hand and dragged him towards the back of the club, and Sam was so focused on the man that he didn’t even look back at Dean as they went. In the darkness of the back room, Brian pushed Sam none too gently against the wall, and turned him around. Sam went with it. After so long without the touch of another man, Brian’s bold moves as they’d danced left Sam breathless and lightheaded and now he shuddered and groaned as Brian pressed against him and raked his fingernails down the front of his shirt, making his nipples into hard, sensitized buds in seconds. Brian undid Sam's pants, pushing them off his hips and halfway down his thighs, and he wrapped his hand around Sam's cock, pulling on it as he ground his crotch against Sam’s naked ass.

Sam pushed back, desire heightened to a point where he didn't care that he was standing in a room full of other men, also fucking and sucking and bringing each other off. It had been so long since he had strong, self-assured hands on him, taking what they wanted. He'd loved Jess, and would have happily spent the rest of his life growing old with her, but he'd always had an attraction to guys too, one that he hadn't needed to act on while he'd been with her, but now? Now, Brian was cupping his balls with one hand, unzipping his own pants with the other, and then the hands were gone as he rolled on a condom. Sam gasped and squirmed as a lubed finger pressed into him none too gently.

"How much do you need?" Brian murmured in Sam's ear, making the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

"It's been a while."

"The tighter the better," Brian purred, quickly worked Sam open, and pressed the head of his dick into him as Sam panted and tried to relax, revelling in the intrusion, the long missed feeling of being split open and taken.

Unseen by Sam, Dean stalked into the room, skidding to a halt at the sight that greeted him. From the perfect sideways view he had, he could see Brian ploughing into Sam’s rounded ass. Sam panted and groaned, reaching round with one hand and grabbing Brian’s hip, pulling him closer and grinding back against him. Brian slammed into him over and over and Sam's fingers curled around his own cock as he was fucked.

Dean didn’t have time to process the emotions that battered him. Shock, because he’d never even known that Sam was into guys. Outrage because Brian was touching Sam, his Sammy, like that. Pain because his heart broke a little as he watched Sam’s head fall back onto Brian’s shoulder, mouth open in ecstasy. And anger because, because ... because he was fucking angry!!

“Sammy,” Dean staggered backwards, and out of the darkened room that reeked of sex.

“Dean?" Emmett put his hand on Dean's shoulder, shocked by the hurt in his eyes. "Let me get you a drink?"

Dean shook his head and walked away, leaving Emmett standing in the middle of the dance floor biting his lip and hoping that his new friend didn't do anything rash. 

Back inside, Brian knocked Sam’s hand away, took hold of his dick and pumped it in time with his thrusts until Sam came hard, spurting over Brian’s fingers and clamping down on his cock. He could feel Brian pulse inside him as he emptied himself into the condom, and while Sam was still getting his breath back, Brian pulled out, efficiently dealing with the condom, and helped Sam tug his pants back up. There was no affection there, not that Sam had expected any, or wanted it from Brian, but he found himself thinking of Dean. He shook his head, really not needing images of his brother’s affectionate smile intruding after he’d just been well and truly fucked.

Brian led him back out into the club, smiled, and headed off, something Sam was pleased about. His eyes scanned the club, and he frowned when Dean was nowhere to be found. 

Emmett, who’d stayed around after Dean stormed out, took pity on him.

"Dean left," he told Sam.

"Dean?" Sam was still more than a little shell-shocked after what had happened with Brian, but he was sure that he hadn't told Emmett who Dean was.

"Your colleague Dean. He told me about you two. Researching the killer?"

Sam nodded slowly, thinking Dean must have gone with the reporter story after all.

"He saw you with Brian in the back room and left. He seemed pretty upset."

"He ... he saw me?" The colour drained from Sam's face and Emmett thought he looked as if he might pass out at any second so he wrapped his arm around his shoulders and guided him to an empty seat at the bar and ordered up a couple of shots.

“Did you ever think that he might like you? I mean as more than just a friend?”

“What? No! No, I really don’t think he likes me like that.”

Sam’s eyes widened as he thought through what Emmett had said. He looked so startled that Emmett shook his head, patted Sam’s shoulder and bought him another shot.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean ran all the way back to the motel, ran until the sweat poured down his back and his heart hammered in his chest. He really didn't want to go anywhere that Sam would be able to find him, but he didn't know where else _to_ go. He started stripping his clothes off as soon as the door closed behind him and he made straight for the bathroom where he stood under the shower, wishing he could scrub away the images that had burned into his brain as easily as he could scrub the smell of the place from his skin. He didn't want to think, didn't want to analyze how he was feeling or why he was feeling it because none of it made any sense. Sam had been with women before while they had been on the road. Not many, granted, but Dean had always been cool with that, had openly approved, so why the hell was he having such a hard time accepting that Sam liked guys too? He'd always been open minded and for a while before Sam left for Stanford, Dean had wondered if his brother might be gay, given the lack of girls he mentioned, but then he didn't mention guys either, so Dean had eventually put it down to being a geek rather than being gay.

The one emotion that Dean could acknowledge was a deep hurt. Some of the others that were roaming around his head were too scary to dwell on, so he focused on the hurt. He'd helped raise Sam, and they'd been there for each other through thick and thin, saved each other's lives and tended each other's wounds, not just the physical ones. Dean had never been one for talking about feelings and stuff, but he'd always instinctively known when Sam needed him. Brotherly hugs weren’t something they did much, but Dean was always there with a distracting beer or even a warm bed when things got too much for either one of them and the only thing that could offer comfort was resorting to the way they'd dealt with it when they were younger. Falling asleep wrapped around each other like a pair of kittens. As long as they didn’t talk about it the morning after, Dean was fine with that.

Dean rubbed shampoo none too gently into his hair. Did Sam think he would have judged him? Would have pushed him away? Dean rinsed the soap from his skin and hair and stood under the shower spray, letting it pound down over his shoulders and bowed head. His heart sat like a stone in his chest, physically aching as if a demon had taken a hold of it and was squeezing it tight. He didn't understand why it hurt so much and he didn't understand why Sam hadn't trusted him enough to tell him. He just wanted the ache and the confusion to stop.

He dried himself off, rubbing his skin too hard with the coarse motel towel, and slipped into bed, wrapping himself in the blankets, burying his head under a pillow. As much as he tried to will himself to sleep before Sam came back, he heard the door crack open a couple of hours later. He lay still, snuffling as if he was asleep, and ignored Sam's whispered "Dean? You awake?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, tension hung between them, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. It didn't take long.

“Seems the spirit has been building up to the main event and your ‘boyfriend’ might be next.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Dean,” Sam glared and hunched a little lower over his laptop, his forehead furrowed as he concentrated.

“No? Well, you two sure looked cosy last night.” Not for the first time since he’d barged through the curtain at the back of the club, Dean wished he could erase what he’d seen from his mind. Images of Sam, his Sammy, being fu … shit, no, he couldn’t even think the words, not with Sam sitting so close and an ache in his heart every time he thought about it that made him incredibly uncomfortable for a whole heap of reasons. Dean growled to himself and pushed his chair away from the table, stalking over to stand at the window.

“And just when were you gonna tell me you played for the other team? All this time, I’ve been pushing every girl we’ve met at you, well, half of them anyway, and thinking you weren’t interested because you respected women.” Dean glared out through the stained curtains at nothing in particular as he ranted, still reluctant to meet Sam’s eyes. “But this Brian, this stranger, gives you the come on and half an hour later you’re in the back room getting fu …” 

Nope, couldn’t say it either. Dean grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the motel room, muttering under his breath.

“Need some air.” He slammed the door behind him, leaving Sam alone.

The urge to get into the Impala and drive until there were several hundred miles between him and Pittsburgh was a strong one, but that would mean leaving Sam, and no matter how confused and strangely hurt he felt, he couldn’t leave his brother behind. Dean dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket, and changed direction, following the wonderful smell of breakfast right to the door of a diner and he was so hungry that he didn’t even pause to check it out before opening the door and walking in.

The Liberty Diner was warm and welcoming and full of reminders of the night before. Dean scowled at the appraising looks he got from more than a handful of the men in the place as he found a table and sat down. 

“Hi sweetie, I haven’t seen you in here before. What’ll it be?” Debbie asked, a beaming smile on her face. Dean glanced up at her, taking in the bright red hair and rainbow buttons.

“Uh, I just got into town. Breakfast would be good. The works and lots of coffee?”

“Coming right up.” She winked and wove her way back to the counter. Dean watched her go and turned to see who she was waving at as the door opened again, letting a small gust of chilled air into the diner.

Dean cursed under his breath and hoped the tall slim man hadn’t spotted him, but a soft pat on his shoulder a moment later told him he hadn’t been that lucky.

“Dean! You left in so much of a hurry last night I didn’t think we’d be seeing you again.” Emmett sat down across the table from Dean and patted his hand. Under normal circumstances, Dean would have pulled away from another guy touching him like that, but it was such a comforting gesture that he left his hand where it was and gave Emmett a shaky smile. This whole gig had him so off balance that he didn’t quite know which way was up anymore. 

"Have you seen Sam since last night?"

Dean nodded glumly. "He's back at the motel."

"Have you spoken to him about ..."

Dean snorted.

"No, and I don't want to. I just want things to go back to how they were before. I hate Pittsburgh."

"You don't seem the homophobic type, and if you don't like him that way, what's the problem?"

Debbie arrived with breakfast, and Dean picked at it as she exchanged small talk with Emmett. After she'd gone, Emmett turned back to Dean.

"Well?"

"We grew up together, been friends since forever, shared everything and now I find out he didn't trust me enough to tell me this? I'd never judge him and finding out like that? It hurt."

Dean pouted and Emmett smiled sadly, petting his hand again.

"Maybe he was waiting for the time to be right to tell you and other things got in the way."

Dean nodded again and took a long sip of bitter black coffee. Emmett had a point. They'd had plenty to deal with over the years since Sam had left Stanford to help him find Dad. Plenty and then some. But it didn't make Dean feel any better..

"I just wish he'd trusted me enough to tell me."

Emmett looked over Dean's shoulder and smiled.

"Hi Sam!" Emmett waved and Dean sighed. "Well, now his secret is out, you have to show him that you still love him, even though you might be hurting."

Emmett left, with a smile and an encouraging pat on the arm for Sam and Sam slid into the booth opposite Dean.

"Hey." Sam fiddled with a napkin.

"Hey," Dean replied, considering munching on a piece of toast then changing his mind.

Debbie brought coffee for Sam, and Dean continued to pick at his breakfast.

"Sorry." They both spoke at once, and smiled at each other, unsure, tentative smiles, not the laughter that would have been natural at any point up until the night before. 

"Were you ever gonna tell me?” Dean asked.

Sam played with his coffee cup before answering.

"It never seemed like the right moment," Sam shrugged and Dean nodded.

"But Jess? And Sarah?"

Sam shrugged again. "I like girls too."

"Oh," Dean still wasn't quite ready to let things be okay between them, not with the way it still felt like a betrayal.

"It hurt. Finding out like that, seeing you ..." The reactions Dean was refusing to deal with came back to mind, the jealousy and the sharp, sour spike of arousal at seeing Sam come apart like that. He blushed, thankful that Sam would most likely think it was from embarrassment, and not shame. "You could have told me." Dean mumbled into his coffee.

"I'm sorry, Dean, if I'd known what was going to happen ..."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, okay. So did you pick up any leads on the case?"

Sam recognized Dean's change of subject for what it was. He'd talked enough and needed an out. So Sam gave it to him.

"I talked to Ted and Michael last night. Emmett's friends?"

Dean nodded and nibbled half-heartedly on the side order of hash browns.

"And Michael gave me the name of someone who would have hung out at the club around the same time as Byron," Sam continued "I called him on the way here and set up a meeting for this afternoon."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The Hillside rest home in Hermitage was pleasant enough, with large gardens and a view over an open landscape. A motherly care assistant directed them to a bench at the edge of the grass overlooking a pond. The man sitting there had his eyes closed, a cigarette hanging from his fingers.

“Dominic Brown?” Sam asked gently, not wanting to startle him.

“Yes, I’m Dominic.” He looked up at Sam.

“We spoke on the phone this morning. I’m Sam, and this is my colleague, Dean.”

“Oh yes, Sam. Have a seat.” He waited until Sam sat down beside him on the bench. “So what can I help you boys with?”

“Did you know Byron Mercer?”

“Byron? Of course I did.”

“Yeah?” Dean cast about for somewhere to sit, and Sam scooted along on the bench to give him room.

“Everyone knew Byron, but why are you kids so interested in him?”

“We were researching the history of Babylon ... for a story, and heard the legends about Byron’s ghost.”

“His ghost?” Dominic cackled. “Oh boy, he would have loved this, reporters digging around and making him famous.” The old man got his laughter under control. “There was no ghost, it was a story that started not long after the fire.” He shook his head.

“But the sightings over the years?”

“Flights of fancy, nothing more.”

“How come you’re so sure?” Dean asked, his forehead creasing into a frown.

“Because Byron didn’t die in the fire like most people thought he did.”

“He ... didn’t?” It was Sam’s turn to look confused.

“Nope.”

“So what happened to him?”

“I was an orderly in a sanatorium just outside the city. Patients were transferred to us after the hospital had done what they could, and one day I was helping out with a burn victim, his face all scarred and pitted, and recognized the tattoo on his arm. It was Byron, without a doubt, although I didn’t say anything to him.”

“He used a fake identity?”

“No, he used his real identity. Norman Arthur, and Norman Arthur was alive and well until three months ago.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I went to his funeral. Still felt a tie to the man even after so many years.” Dominic took another drag before explaining. “He was my first, and you don’t forget a man like that. He may not have recognized me, but I’ll never forget him.”

 

So it was a routine salt and burn, and then they could leave. That pleased Dean immensely. That Sam wanted to see Brian, to suggest he stay away from Babylon for a few days, didn't please him at all.

"He doesn't have to know." 

_You don't have to see him again._ Dean's unsaid words were as loud as the spoken ones.

"What if Byron strikes again before we finish? He has a right to know something, Dean, and one of us should stay with him in case he is attacked."

"What?!?" Dean glared at his brother, weighing up the options in his head and not liking either of them. "Fine. You go dig Norman up, I'll babysit Brian."

"What? No! You hate him and I thought the whole point of this was to protect him."

"It's not like I'm gonna hurt him, Sam. Not unless he asks for it." Dean mumbled the last part and Sam looked daggers at him. "Okay, you stay with Brian and I'll go dig up the stiff. On my own."

"We could check with Bobby, see if there’s anyone else in the area to help out?"

"You want to bring another hunter in on something as simple as this? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What the hell's wrong with _you_ , Dean? You've been pissed at me ever since the night at Babylon. How many one night stands have you had and have you ever heard me complaining?"

"You've complained. Once or twice. What about Cleveland?" Dean asked.

"The enthusiastic steel worker with arms bigger than mine who snorted when she came? While I was in the next bed? I think I had a right to complain! The difference is that you brought her back to our room, but I didn't ask you to come looking for me, Dean. Some things I'd rather keep private."

While Dean would admit that Angie from Cleveland hadn't been one of his best conquests and he had felt guilty the next morning, waking up with Sam in the next bed glaring at them, but that was different, he was sure. And since when did they keep anything private from each other?

"Yeah, I'm getting that." Dean sighed, and resigned himself to a night if digging up a corpse while Brian had another chance to get his hands all over Sam. “Have you got Brian’s number?”

Sam shook his head and Dean couldn’t help feeling happy that they hadn’t swapped numbers.

“I’ve got Emmett’s, I could call him, arrange a meet with Brian?” Sam suggested.

“Yeah, call Em,” Dean agreed. 

Sam nodded, surprised that Dean already had a nickname for him, and made the call.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was late when they got back to Pittsburgh, so they headed straight for Brian’s place.

Justin opened the door to the loft. He was polite, inviting them in and explaining that Brian wasn’t home, but Dean saw the way he glanced at Sam, and knew how he must be feeling. If Justin and Brian were involved, and given he was at Brian’s place with textbooks and notebooks spread out over the dining table Dean thought it was obvious that they were, Sam probably wasn’t Justin’s favourite person. 

Dean looked around as Justin went to get them drinks. It was the kind of place he'd imagined Sam living if he’d followed his dreams and become a lawyer. A sleek, well ordered place with little room for salt at the windows and weapons littering the tables. The sort of place Sam would have lived for a few years before he and most likely Jess moved to the suburbs to raise their 2.4 children in a light and airy house with a garden with tall trees, far, far away from demons and darkness and Dean ...

"Dean." Sam nudged him out of his waking nightmare. “Brian’s not here ..”

“I know,” Dean grinned, not even trying to hide how relieved he was. He took the beer Justin offered with a smile and sprawled on the couch.

“... so we need to go look for him,” Sam finished, rolling his eyes at Dean’s obvious glee at Brian’s absence.

There was a knock at the door, and Dean could hear voices having an animated conversation outside. Justin seemed relieved that more people meant he wouldn’t have to make small talk with Sam. He headed to the door and opened it to let Emmett, Michael and Ted into the loft.

“Hey, it’s the press.” Ted smirked.

“So did you get what you wanted from Dominic?” Michael asked.

“Uh, yes, he was very informative. Thanks for the tip,” Sam answered as Emmett settled himself down on the couch next to Dean.

“You really think that someone from back then is involved? Wouldn’t they be, well, ancient by now?” Emmett asked Dean.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Dean looked up at Sam, and nodded in the direction of the door, but the questions continued.

“Why were you curious about Byron? Didn’t he die in the fire?”

“Turns out that he didn’t.” Sam turned to Michael. “He was injured in the fire, badly burned, but he died of old age a few months ago.”

“When, exactly?” Ted queried.

Sam sighed. “Twenty seventh of April. We should be going, we need to talk to Brian ...”

“The day before the first murder?” Emmet glanced from Dean to Sam and back again. “So why would you be interested in him? It’s not like he could have anything to do with it.”

“Unless his ghost decided to haunt Babylon for real,” Michael smirked.

Silence fell across the room, as Sam and Dean glanced at each other warily and the others looked at each other with wide eyes. Then everyone began to talk at once.

“A real life ghost?” Ted burst out laughing. “First reporters, now ghost hunters Who the hell are you guys really?”

“Technically, a ghost wouldn’t be alive,” Michael pointed out helpfully to Ted.

“Ghost? That’s funny. Dean? Time to go.”

“Yeah, it’s hilarious. So, we’ll see you all later. Thanks for the hospitality,” Dean nodded at Justin and stood up.

“Wait, _do_ you think it’s a ghost?” Emmett put his hand on Dean’s arm

“What? No, of course not,” Dean blustered.

“Is Brian in danger?” Justin’s softly spoken question cut through the confusion.

“We think he is,” Sam answered.

“Then it doesn’t matter if it’s a ghost or a man or a fucking unicorn, we need to warn him.” Justin grabbed his jacket and keys and headed for the door.

“Do you know where he’ll be?” Dean asked as he followed him.

“I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

 

As they all made their way to the club, Dean listened to the group of men talk, and they reminded him of himself and Sam, the way they snarked and bickered, but still had that affection for each other underneath it all. And he had to admit that they weren’t a bad bunch of civilians to hang around with. Emmett, Justin, Michael, even Ted, they were all so, well, nice, Dean thought. Well, apart from Brian. Brian wasn’t nice. He was most likely a demon sent to tempt Sam away from him. Yeah, that was most likely the case. Dean smiled at the thought of sending Brian’s ass straight to hell, and if he wasn’t a demon, well, he was still a brother stealing bastard and that had to be reason enough to damn him.

“What are you smirking about?” Sam asked as he poked Dean in the ribs.

“Nothing.” Dean grinned again, then tried to get his head back in the game. No matter how much he might dislike Brian, he supposed he didn’t really deserve to be ganked by some ghost. 

He was easy enough to find when they got there, dancing with a couple of tall, attractive men. He abandoned his temporary companions when he saw them come in, but after he’d squeezed Justin’s ass on the way past, he made a beeline for Sam. Dean watched through narrowed eyes as Brian whispered into Sam’s ear and made him blush. Sam’s eyes darted to Justin, who shrugged his shoulders and walked away and onto the dance floor. Guiltily, and with a brief backward glance in Dean’s direction, Sam let Brian lead him through the dancers to the middle of the throng.

“So you still haven’t made your move?” Emmett sounded disappointed.

“No, and I’m not going to. I told you, it’s complicated.”

“Hmm, at least you’re over the denial. You know, from where I’m standing, it looks like Sam’s trying to make you jealous.”

“Yeah?” Dean considered that, but there was no way Sam could possibly be interested, so that couldn’t be true. Yet when he looked over to where Sam was dancing, he glanced over at Dean and held his gaze for a moment.

“Huh,” Dean pondered, and noticed Justin dancing not far from where Brian was now mauling Sam. “So what’s the deal with Brian and Justin?” he asked Emmett

“Justin’s the closest thing Brian has to a boyfriend. Brian doesn’t do boyfriends, but Justin’s managed to get under his skin. Doesn’t stop Brian from hooking up, though,” Emmett explained.

“Really?” Dean considered that for a moment before putting his drink down on the bar. “Well in that case, he won’t mind if I dance with him.”

Dean peeled off his shirt to reveal a skin tight white wife beater. Emmett gasped in appreciation and Dean winked at him, draping his discarded shirt over Emmett’s shoulder. He pushed through the crowd to where Justin was dancing alone, not too far from Brian and Sam.

Dean’s heart was beating fast as he approached the blond and he ran a hand down Justin’s arm as he circled him, completely ignoring the couple who had been his focus for most of the night, and concentrating all his energies on Justin.

“I know what you’re doing.” Justin stared at Dean, but he kept moving to the music. 

“You do?”

“Mm hm. You’re trying to make your friend jealous.”

“Friend? Oh, my ‘friend’. Well no, I’m not. Really,” Dean reassured as he danced closer, skimming his hands down Justin’s sides as the younger man danced with his arms above his head. They came to rest on Justin’s hips and Justin snaked his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean’s heart practically hammered in his chest at the totally alien experience of having a man in his arms, an experience that was growing hotter by the minute. Justin looked up at him through his long lashes, intent on kissing the oh so pouty lips that were dangerously close to his own but at the look in Deans eyes, realization dawned and he pulled him closer instead, nipping on his earlobe and whispering in his ear.

“You’ve never done this before, have you? Never even kissed a guy.”

“Nope.” Dean’s answer dissolved into a groan as Justin pushed against him and he could feel how aroused Justin was.

Justin pulled back and slowly raised his eyes to meet Dean's. His lips were parted and looked so moist and inviting that Dean couldn't help himself and he pressed his mouth lightly against Justin's. He'd thought it would be different, but really, kissing was kissing and Dean caught on to that fast. He dug his fingers into Justin's soft hair and held him still while his tongue explored the younger man's mouth and Justin groaned, spurring him on. The kiss became harder, hotter as Justin wrapped his arms around Dean and Dean got swept up in the passion of the moment. As they slowly pulled apart, Justin stared at him, wide eyed.

"You _sure_ you've never kissed a guy before?"

"I'm sure," Dean grinned.

He glanced up, and found himself staring straight into Sam's eyes which were wide with shock. Dean couldn't help feeling slightly smug that _he'd_ managed to shock _Sam_. The look on Brian's face was priceless. He glared at Dean, and stalked off through the dancers. Justin smiled at Dean and kissed him on the cheek.

“I’m going to go and find him.”

“Sure,” Dean grinned, jumping when he felt a hand on his shoulder, which turned out to be Sam’s.

“What was that all about?” Sam loomed over Dean, frowning.

“You jealous, Sammy?” Dean smirked.

“What? No! You were all up in my face about Brian, and then you kiss Justin?” Sam was buffeted closer to Dean by the dancers around them.

Dean shrugged. “I wanted to know what all the fuss was about.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Dean glanced around as he continued to dance, eying up another blond and winking at him.

Sam put his hand on Dean’s arm to get his attention and glared at him again.

“What, Sam?” Dean put a hand on Sam’s neck and pulled him closer so he could whisper in his ear. “I can’t have some fun?”

Sam almost growled, slipping his hands onto Dean’s waist, and staring him down as they moved together. Dean raised his eyebrows, thrown by the signals he was getting from his brother. Sam was pissed at him, and, if they hadn’t been related, and Dean hadn’t known that there was no way Sam was interested in him, he would have been sure that Sam _was_ jealous, and was also about to stake a claim. Dean looked up at him, wide eyed, and slowly put his hands on Sam’s shoulders, fingers playing with the soft hair at the back of his neck. 

Sam pulled him closer, none too gently, and Dean had to bite back a gasp. He looked up into Sam’s eyes, and involuntarily arched his back in reaction to the desire he saw in them. This was Sam, but this was new, and scary, and shouldn’t feel right, but all Dean wanted was to kiss his brother hard and be the one to make him moan. The club, the music, the dancers, everything was forgotten as Sam bent his head, and Dean tilted his face up to meet him.

“Dean! Oh!” Emmett exclaimed as he shook Dean’s shoulder, and the moment was gone. Sam let go as if he’d been burned, and Dean rounded on Emmett, about to tear him a new one until he saw the panic on his face. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but Brian’s missing.”

“Missing? I thought Justin was with him.”

“No, Justin couldn’t find him. We’ve looked everywhere. He’s not in the club, and he’s not answering his cell.”

Dean swore under his breath and the three of them took off towards the table Michael and Ted were anxiously sitting at. Dean pulled his shirt back on, and picked up his jacket.

“We’ll head back to the loft, you stay here in case he comes back,” Dean ordered the others.

“No,” Justin shook his head. “I’m coming with you.”

“I’ll stay, just in case he comes back,” Ted suggested, which earned him a glare from Michael. “Fine,” he grumbled and pulled on his jacket.

“Great,” Dean hissed at Sam as they left, their entourage in tow. “An audience.”

 

Brian let the stranger into the loft, closing the door behind them. He whimpered as he was pushed up against the wall and long, elegant fingers began to undo his shirt. Brian had been on his way to the bar, pissed at the way Justin had looked after Dean had kissed him, when he’d passed a man who was over dressed for partying at Babylon.

The man’s thumb had grazed the back of his hand, and Brian found himself turning and looking into dark, predatory eyes. The stranger had touched his hand again, and Brian had willingly led the way out of the club and back to his home, want clouding his mind.

The world around Brian was hazy. All he knew was that he wanted the elegant man, wanted to be fucked by him, which wasn’t something Brian often wanted. 

“Yes,” Brian hissed as blunt nails scraped across his nipples and as he gasped, a warm mouth covered his. But the taste was wrong. Justin tasted fresh, almost sweet, and Sam had tasted like smoky whiskey, but this taste was edged with a sourness that Brian didn’t like.

He tried to pull away, but the man held him fast, pinning him to the wall with a hand on his chest. The spot where skin met skin was heating up fast, and Brian shook his head to try and gain some clarity.

“What did you say your name was?”

“Byron.” The man grinned, but now when Brian looked at him, his skin was sagging, almost melting in places, and as his face began to rot away, Brian began to scream.

The door burst open, and a shotgun blast rang out, followed by screaming as Emmett almost fainted at the sight of the ghost, and Michael and Ted grabbed hold of each other and tried to run back out of the door at the same time. Byron snarled as the salt hit him and disintegrated, leaving Brian to slump back against the wall. Justin ran forward to where Brian was sliding down to the floor. He raised his lover’s head up so he could look him in the eyes.

“Sorry,” Brian mumbled.

Justin kissed him on the forehead and helped him to his feet.

“What just happened?” Ted asked from behind Michael.

“That was the ghost of Norman Arthur, also known as Byron Mercer. Like we said before, he didn’t die in the fire. He was disfigured, so he let everyone think that he had, but once he did die, he came back. Looks like he was taking his revenge on narcissists like himself. Those who could have whoever they wanted,” Dean explained.

“So that’s it? You shot him with ...?” Brian asked.

“Rock salt,” Dean supplied helpfully.

“Right, rock salt. And he’s back to being dead?”

“Sorry, but it’s not that easy. Now I have to dig up his grave and salt and burn his bones, or since he’s only been dead for three months, his still squishy corpse.”

There were cries of “Eeeeew”, and “Gross!”.

“It’s gonna be too late now to get to the graveyard and get it done before sun up, so it’ll have to be tomorrow night. We’ll stay here, keep an eye on Brian in case Byron comes back.”

“We’ll all stay,” Emmett suggested, looking over at Michael, who nodded in agreement.

‘Do what you like, I’m going to bed.” Brian turned to go, but Dean caught a hold of his arm.

“You can sleep out here, with the others, that way we can watch everyone.”

Brian wrenched his arm away. “You can all have your slumber party out here, but I’m going to sleep in my bed,” he growled and reached for Justin.

He stopped in the doorway to the bedroom when he realized that Dean was following them.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“In there, with you,” Dean explained. “Unless you want to risk Byron’s ghost coming back by yourself.”

He saw the slightest shiver run through Brian and realized that no matter what kind of front he was putting on, he’d been badly shaken by the attack. He watched as Justin touched Brian’s arm, coaxing Brian to look at him, and Justin gave him the same puppy eyes that Sam had used on Dean countless times.

“Fine,” Brian agreed with a roll of eyes. “But I’m getting the big couch.”

Dean helped them bring the blankets and pillows into the living room, muttering to Sam on the way past.

“Someone better be buying me breakfast in the morning for this.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

The following night Emmett, Michael and Ted met Dean just before midnight at the west gate of St Mary's Cemetery. A routine salt and burn it wasn’t, not with three civilians in tow who were both overly enthusiastic and at the same time jumpy and scared out of their wits. Emmett and Michael had brought iron pokers with them that they’d picked up at a hardware store, and grinned when Dean nodded his approval, glad they’d taken in at least some of what he’d told them over breakfast at the diner about hunting ghosts.

Before they got there, Dean had found an easy way in for them that thankfully didn’t involve climbing over railings. The last thing he wanted was anybody getting impaled. He handed out the salt and spades to his three helpers, and carried the gasoline himself. They crept through the dark and quiet night towards the spot Dean had checked out earlier when it had still been light. It was deep enough in that they were unlikely to be disturbed, but all the same, he was eager to get it over and done with as soon as possible.

Dean explained what they had to do then he started digging, while Michael, Emmett and Ted took turns at digging and being lookouts. The soil was heavy with clay and it was hard going. Dean stripped down to his t shirt, and Emmett did the same, giving his spot up to Michael so he could flop under a tree and get his breath back.

Just as Dean and Michael finished digging, a pale figure walked towards them through the trees.

“Um, Dean!” Emmet hissed. “We’ve got company.”

Dean’s head popped up from the grave like a startled mere cat, but his eyes narrowed as the man approached. He looked like he’d walked off a 1940s movie set, hair slicked back, handsome features, and wearing a sharp tuxedo.

“It’s Byron,” Dean warned them, and at the sound of his name, the ghost turned towards Dean and snarled, the handsome mask slipping to reveal his scarred face.

Ted screamed, but Emmet remembered what Dean had told them to do, and swiped at Byron with the iron poker he’d brought along.

The ghost snarled and disappeared.

“Good, Em, keep him off our backs!” Dean slammed his foot down on the top of the coffin, and pulled the broken wood away. “Out!” He yelled at Michael, and the man scrambled out, closely followed by Dean, who began sprinkling salt and lighter fluid onto the remains.

Emmet swiped at Byron again, feeling the ghost’s hands grab at him this time. Ted crowded up against Emmet’s back, burying his face against Emmet’s jacket as Dean flicked open his lighter and dropped it into the grave. Flames shot up, and Byron appeared again and launched himself at Emmet, screaming. Emmet dropped down, pulling Ted with him, but Byron’s ghost fizzled in the air around them then disappeared with a roar.

The three of them looked up at Dean from their various positions on the ground, blinking with shock and amazement.

“This is what you do??” Michael asked.

“On a quiet day, yeah,” Dean grinned, and reached down to pull him to his feet as Emmett and Ted scrambled to theirs.

“Awesome!” Emmet exclaimed to withering looks from his friends. Dean led them out of the graveyard, promising to buy them all a beer.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day, it was time for Sam and Dean to hit the road.

Emmett hugged Dean, and Dean returned it, thankful that he'd had him around to confide in.

"You know you have to tell him."

"Em ..."

"Dean, honey, you found out his big secret and things worked out okay, eventually, so you've got to tell him yours."

"But Em, we're not just friends,” Dean paused, unsure of the reaction he'd get if he told the truth. "We're brothers. I can't tell him, ever."

Emmett smiled and rolled his eyes.

"You think I hadn't guessed?"

"And you're not ... disgusted? Horrified?"

"Friends or brothers, you obviously care about each other, and you're both gorgeous." 

Dean blushed. 

"And if that makes me a bad person, I'll just reserve my place in that special hell right now. Besides, have you never seen that TV show about the alien fighting brothers? Alien Apocalypse?"

"No, I don't have a lot of time to watch TV."

"Shame because they are hot, and totally into each other."

Dean eyed him and Emmett realised he'd strayed from the point.

“Twins,” he said

“What?” Dean looked puzzled.

“Twins. Hot or not?”

“Hot,” Dean answered automatically, shrugging.

“And related,” Emmett smirked.

“Oh.” Dean pondered on that point.

"Tell him. If he's not interested, and he'd be insane not to be, he'll get over it and you can stop pining."

"I'm not pining."

"What did I tell you about that river in Egypt?"

"Fine, I'll tell him," Dean agreed, reluctantly.

"Good!" Emmett pressed a piece of paper into Dean's hand. "You can call me and let me know how it goes. I love a good romance!"

Dean hugged him again and left, walking over to the Impala where Sam was leaning on the top, watching the goodbye. There was something odd in his eyes that Dean couldn't pinpoint.

"We could stay for a while."

Dean's brow furrowed. "Why ....? Oh! Emmett? No, he's a friend, that's all. You thought ...?"

"It would have been okay." 

"That's not me, Sam, I'm not, you know." 

"Yeah, okay." Sam's eyes cleared and he got into the car as Dean did and they drove off, leaving Pittsburgh behind.

 

“We’re never gonna be free of him, are we?” Dean sighed

“What do you mean?”

“Just like that Dominic guy said, you never forget your first.”

“Are you talking about Brian?”

Dean winced. “Who else?”

Sam chuckled and Dean glared at him.

“Dean, he was certainly memorable,” Sam didn’t miss Dean wince again. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. “But he wasn’t my first, not by a long shot.”

The Impala swerved around a non-existent pot hole in the road as Dean gasped with shock.

“He ... he wasn’t?” Dean wasn’t sure whether to be happy about this fact or not. All this time he’d been thinking that Sam had never acted on his attraction to men before.

Sam rolled his eyes.

“No. How many girls had you been with by the time you were my age?”

Dean began to make a mental list, the concentration showing on his face, which dissolved into horror as he realised just how many that was and what Sam was getting at.

“You’ve been with that many men?” Dean began to hyperventilate and Sam wished they hadn’t been driving and talking about his sex life at the same time.

“No, I take it back, not that many but he wasn’t my first,” he offered his brother a little reassurance.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay then,” Dean’s voice was almost shaky. 

Sam sighed and turned away from his brother, looking out the window at the trees and hillsides slipping by.

“So, I did some research on a possible next case,” Sam changed the subject, glad that Dean seemed to gradually unwind the further they drove.

They stopped just as it was getting dark. The diner they ate in was cheap and uninspiring and Dean was quiet, something Sam wasn’t used to. They picked up a six pack on the way back to the motel they’d booked into, and Sam decided that they needed to talk.

Once they were sitting on the couch, TV on in the background and beers in hand, he turned so he could see Dean’s profile.

“Look, can we forget about what happened at Babylon?” Sam began. “Brian wasn’t that big a deal.”

Dean snorted. He wanted to say ‘What about what almost happened on the dance floor after he left’ but he couldn’t quite get the words out.

“Can’t we just go back to the way things were before we got to Pittsburgh?” Sam almost pleaded.

“What if I don’t want things to go back the way they were?

“What?”

“What if I want things to be different?”

“...” Sam took a breath, but no words came out.

Dean studied his beer bottle.

“I can’t get it out of my head, you and Brian ... Brain fu ...” He could do this, if he tried real hard, he could say the words. “Brian fucking you.”

“Oh.” Sam looked down at his beer bottle miserably. He thought they’d gotten past this and part of him regretted letting the whole thing happen with Brian even though he’d needed it at the time. “So what ...”

“I can’t get it out of my head because ... because I wanted it to be me.”

Sam stopped twirling his beer bottle and looked sideways at his brother with amazement. “You wanted Brian to fuck you?”

“NO!” Dean looked horrified. “God, no! He’s a brother stealing bastard and I really wish I could have found a reason to damn his ass to hell.”

“Brother stealing bastard? So if you didn’t want him to fuck you, what did you want?” Sam trailed off as realisation struck. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Dean took a long swig of beer and slumped back onto the couch, closing his eyes. Now his dirty little secret was out, and Sam would most likely be leaving and he’d never been as miserable before and WHY did they have to go to Pittsburgh in the first place?

But then Dean froze, his rambling train of thought well and truly derailed by the hot mouth that was suddenly pressed against his. His eyes shot open and he stared into Sam’s before pulling away and scooting to the end of the couch, clutching his beer bottle protectively to his chest as his heart raced.

Sam smiled.

“Do you think you’re gonna get to fuck me without kissing me first?”

“I, er ...” Dean blinked, for once all out of words.

“And do you think I would be doing this if I didn’t want it too?”

Dean slowly shook his head, his eyes still wide. Sam took the bottle from his fingers and set it down on the table. He pushed his older brother back against the arm of the couch and kissed him again, softly, letting Dean get used to the idea before his kisses became more forceful. He could feel Dean’s heart hammering in his chest as if he might take flight at any moment, but he began to return Sam’s kisses, and when his fingers tentatively threaded themselves into Sam’s hair, Sam smiled against Dean’s mouth.

Sam groaned and Dean’s tongue flicked out over his lips and deeper, returning the groan as Sam’s tongue ran down the length of the invading muscle. He pulled back, suckling on Sam’s tongue letting the tip of it slip from his mouth with a sigh and he rested his forehead on Sam’s, hands still fisted in his hair.

“You taste ... of beer.”

Sam grinned. Dean grinned back at him, and suddenly they were laughing together, loud and long. The tension that had hung in the air between them since the first night at Babylon was gone, forgotten, replaced by the easy banter they had both missed.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“You wish.”

“You know you’re mine, Sammy.”

“Didn’t take long for your ego to get used to this.”

“Nope,” Dean said smugly.

“Uh huh.” Sam reached down to firmly palm Dean’s growing erection through his jeans. “How about this?”

“Whoa, I er ...” Dean’s eyes were wide again and it was Sam’s turn to look smug.

“Thought so. This is gonna be so much fun.”

They kissed until Dean’s lips were swollen, over sensitive, and even Sam’s breath wafting over them was making him shudder. Sam’s shirt was unbuttoned and pushed off one shoulder where Dean had gone exploring, his mouth and his fingers roaming and testing, finding the spot under Sam’s ear that made him whimper and shudder when it was kissed, teasing the tight little bud of his right nipple to aching hardness. Dean’s tee was pushed up, exposing his taut stomach, and the button had been popped on his jeans, revealing just enough hip for Sam’s own questing fingers to make him buck off the couch.

But so far, they had kept their pants on. And that was just how Sam wanted it. A slow burn, keep his brother wanting more, keep him focussed on one thing while Sam figured out the practicalities. He stood up and pulled Dean to his feet after him, tugging him towards the bathroom.

Sam turned on the shower, only letting go of Dean for a moment, but when he turned back, Dean was already pulling his shirt off, grinning at Sam once it was over his head. It left Dean’s hair all mussed up, which Sam decided was a good look on him. Sam followed his example, feeling a blush grow on his skin when Dean openly leered at him. It was all so new, so different, yet at the same time there was a familiarity and history that already bonded them at a deeper level. Dean reached for Sam, slipping his fingers into the waistband of his jeans and tugging him forward. Sam went willingly, squirming as Dean’s fingers made quick work of freeing him from the rest of his clothes, apart from his boxer briefs, which by now were stretched across his hard dick.

Dean slowed down, went back to kissing Sam as the small room filled up with steam, and Sam let Dean call the shots, although rutting against Dean’s hip may have encouraged him to finally cup Sam, his palm warm against the cotton. Sam shuddered at the touch and Dean looked up at him as he slid his hand inside his pants, thumb swiping across the slit and smearing moisture over his fingers.

“God, Sammy,” Dean gasped, going with it when Sam wriggled out of his pants and helped Dean do the same before pulling him into the tub and under the spray.

Sam grabbed the soap and, grinning, began to run his hands all over Dean’s body.

 

Dean didn’t ever want to shower again without his arms full of Sam, slipping and sliding over his skin, hands exploring further now there were no clothes in the way. Dean moaned as Sam cupped his ass and pulled him closer. Every touch was better than the last, and every taste of skin and every sound Sam made pushed him higher. Dean would have had no hesitation in admitting his brother had reduced him to thinking in extraordinarily simple terms, even for him.

Then Sam dropped to his knees and showed Dean heaven on earth. Straight down, oh God, he took him straight down. Dean’s hands involuntarily dug into Sam’s hair but instead of protesting, Sam moaned around the hard muscle filling his mouth, his throat, and swallowed around it. Dean actually yelled as he came, almost unable to catch a breath as Sam relentlessly milked him until he had no more to give and his cock felt as sensitive as his lips had earlier.

He let his head fall back against the shower wall and loosened his grip in Sam’s hair, freeing his brother just enough so he could slide up Dean’s body and wrap his arms round him.

“Sammy, I ...” Dean swallowed hard and buried his face against Sam’s neck, glad of the warm water still hitting their bodies. He didn’t think he’d ever come so hard and he really needed to lie down.

“Shhh,” Sam soothed and pulled Dean out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dry him before his skin began to cool.

“But you didn’t ...,” Dean protested.

“Soon,” Sam promised with a smile.

He led Dean over to the bed and laid him down, letting him doze for a while. As Dean napped, Sam lay beside him, propped up on an elbow and took the chance to look, really look at Dean. He was sprawled out on his back, arms loosely spread over the pillows, legs splayed, their natural curve emphasised by the complete lack of tension in his body.

Dean had changed from the time he’d been the slim hipped object of Sam’s first crush. Muscle that had come with age and a life that demanded strength had given him contours that Sam wanted to run his tongue over, tracing the smooth skin and stopping to worship scars that were badges of honour and reminders of close calls.

Sam inched closer, his eyes moving slowly down from the fascination of Dean’s throat, across the planes of his chest and the firm expanse of his stomach. His gaze came to rest on Dean’s cock. He could remember how it tasted, remember how his lips had stretched around it. He could still feel it, the way he had taken it deeper, let it push at the back of his throat until he remembered how to relax, and let Dean in.

Sam reached out, not touching but close enough to feel the heat radiating from it. His own dick was hard to the point of aching, but he could wait a little longer, until Dean was awake and rested and ready to go again.

He laid his hand on Dean’s leg, feeling his pulse beneath the skin. He’d seen Dean half dressed before, more times than he could count, and naked too. Living in such close quarters left little room for modesty, but once he’d gotten over his teenaged attraction, he’d never let himself think about what it would be like to be able to touch, and lick and kiss and more.

Sam smiled to himself, dark and dirty thoughts running rampant around his head. He glanced at Dean’s cock again, biting his lip as he thought of it pushing inside him. As he watched, it began to swell, gradually stiffening and elongating as it filled out.

Sam glanced up at Dean’s face, and found him grinning sleepily back at him.

“Perv,” Dean accused with a low chuckle.

“What?” Sam tried for innocence. 

“Watching my dick while I’m asleep.” Dean yawned and stretched, giving Sam a wonderful view of his ass as he turned over and dozed back off.

Now all Sam could think of was parting the cheeks in front of him, running his tongue down Dean’s crack, then fucking him hard. Sam’s cock throbbed, demanding attention, so Sam pressed against Dean’s side and rubbed it against him until Dean groaned and rolled over again, pulling Sam into his arms.

“Dean?”

“Hmmmm?”

“I need to ask you something.”

“Ungh?”

“All those girls you’ve slept with, you’ve been careful, right? Used condoms every time?”

“Mmmhmm.”

Sam smiled at his brother who was lying on his back, eyes closed and a look of pure bliss on his face. As chilled out at Dean was, and even though that fit right in with Sam’s seduction plans, he needed at least one coherent word from him.

“Swear?”

Dean’s eyes opened just enough to focus on Sam’s face and he smiled such a languid and decadent smile that Sam didn’t know why they hadn’t done this months ago.

“Swear. And I got tested, Sammy. Eight weeks ago.”

“Okay then.” Sam smiled and ran his fingers through Dean’s hair.

In a fluid movement, Sam straddled Dean’s hips. Now Dean’s eyes were wide open and had an interesting combination of hunger and terror in them. Sam took the lead, bending down to nip at Dean’s lips and his cock prodded Dean’s stomach, leaving a damp trail as Sam moved against him.

Sam moaned softly in his ear and huffed small warm breaths across his neck as Dean’s arms went around him. Goose-bumps rose and Dean pulled him closer.

“Touch me.” Sam pulled back and sat down over Dean’s hips, his brother’s hard cock wedged between his cheeks. Dean’s hands rested on Sam’s hips, and he nervously licked his lips, glancing between Sam’s eyes and the solid column of muscle that was demanding attention. Slowly, he took his right hand off Sam’s hip, and wrapped it around his brother’s cock. Sam could see the hesitation in his eyes, and knew how he felt. Each step they took now, each move they made, took them further over the line. After they did this, there would be no turning back and even though Sam wanted it more than anything else he could remember, the pause was important. It meant what followed wasn’t just his hormones racing away with them, it was a conscious, deliberate choice. And one that, with deep breaths, they both made willingly.

Dean’s long fingers curled around Sam’s erection, immediately curious about the similarities and differences to his own cock, but one glance at Sam’s face had him mesmerised.

Dean looked up at his brother in awe. Sam’s lips were parted and his heavy lidded eyes were almost closed, long lashes fluttering every time Dean’s thumb grazed over the head of Sam’s swollen cock. Tendrils of damp hair stuck to Sam’s neck and round his face and Dean was mesmerised by the sight.

“You’re beautiful, Sammy.” His voice was hoarse and when Sam looked down at him, Dean blushed, a rosy glow that spread down his neck. Sam smiled and arched as Dean’s exploring hands moved on him, and he was so hard he ached. His fingers found Dean’s nipples and he delighted in the little whimpers he coaxed from his older brother with a little twisting and pulling.

“Make me come, Dean. Please.”

Dean groaned, his hand moving faster. He watched, almost entranced as Sam’s body began to tense, his stomach muscles pulling taut, his thigh muscles clenching around Dean’s hips. Sam threw his head back, and Dean had a moment of unreality. They were really doing this. Dean twisted his wrist a little, making Sam cry out, his whole body bowing back as his cock spurted, trails of hot come landing on Dean’s chest as Dean pulled every last drop from him.

Sam sagged, spent and boneless, so Dean pulled him down until he was lying on his back. Sam blinked at him, watching as Dean raised his hand to his mouth and licked it clean.

“God, that’s hot.” Sam groaned.

Dean grinned and reached down the side of the bed to find the t shirt that Sam had pulled off earlier. He wiped off the rest of the cooling stickiness, and curled next to Sam, stroking his skin, and watching him tremble. Dean moved closer, pushing his dick against Sam’s hip, enjoying the way it felt sliding across the warm skin. Sam reached down and touched him, fingertips brushing over the tip.

“Sam!” Dean yelped, pushing up against Sam’s hand, needing more.

Sam smirked and pushed himself up, sliding his hand lower to cup Dean’s balls and stroke the skin behind them.

“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean groaned. 

“Will you fuck me?” The words were hardly out of Sam’s mouth before he landed on his back with an ‘oof’ and Dean was on him, kisses searing his lips.

“Dean ...,” Sam panted out. “Lube?”

“What? Oh, right. Where?”

“Jeans pocket.”

“Got it. Condom?” Dean questioned.

“No,” Sam shook his head. He’d been tested when he and Jess had got together, and there’d only been Madison and Brian since and he’d been careful. And he trusted that Dean had been truthful. “Skin to skin.”

"Awesome."

As Dean slicked his cock, Sam hastily made his own preparations, shuddering when the blunt head of Dean’s cock poked at where his fingers were buried in his own ass. He helped line the thick column of muscle up, and reached up to hold Dean back for a second.

“Take it easy, until you’re all the way in.”

Dean nodded. Sam squirmed as Dean breached him, arching and panting as his brother eased into him for the first time.

“Are you ... is this okay?” Dean held still, not wanting to hurt Sam, not even for this.

“Oh yeah, more than okay,” Sam groaned and tilted his hips to encourage Dean to keep moving.

But Dean stilled. He looked down at Sam, and touched his face as if it were made of glass. Slowly, he pulled almost all the way back out, and bent down to kiss Sam as he pushed back in, feeling Sam’s drawn out groan ghost across his lips. Now he began to move, fucking Sam harder as Sam twisted and moaned. Dean slipped an arm beneath Sam, and pulled him closer causing his body to arch back, his head and shoulders brushing the bed as Dean held him around the waist and rocked into him.

“Dean, please,” Sam begged.

“Touch yourself,” Dean panted, shuddering as he watched Sam’s hand close around his own dick and pull on it in time with Dean’s thrusts.

It was too much. Sam’s tight heat gripping him, his legs wrapped around Dean’s. The heat of his body, the heavy scent of sex and Sam, the sight of him bringing himself off while Dean fucked him. Dean’s senses overloaded and he came, hard and unexpected, gripping Sam tighter and slamming into him. Sam cried out, and Dean felt the Sam’s come slick between their bodies as his hips stuttered and stilled and he lowered Sam’s boneless form down to the bed.

“Easy,” Dean told himself as he pulled out slowly, grimacing at the squelch and cleaning them both up before he flopped down beside Sam on the bed. Their shoulders were touching, and Dean felt around for Sam’s hand and twinned their fingers together.

“You’re such a girl.”

Dean could hear the smile in Sam’s voice and couldn’t help the broad grin that spread over his own face.

“So this? Us? You ever thought about it before?” Dean asked later as he lay with his head on Sam’s chest.

“Well, I was a teenager, realising I might like boys as well as girls, and I had an older brother who couldn’t keep it in his pants, and insisted on telling me every detail of his sex life. So yeah, back then, but nothing like this. I just ...” He paused until Dean looked up at him. “I just wanted to kiss you.”

“Aw, Sammy, that’s so sweet!” Dean buried his face in Sam’s shoulder to try and hide his laughter. Once he’d gotten himself under control, he kissed the pout off Sam’s face and settled back down again.

“Then one day, I came home early. You had a girl in the motel room.” Sam couldn’t believe he was telling Dean his darkest secret, but Dean stroked his hip, and placed a kiss on his chest, so he went on. “I watched you through a crack in the curtains. She was clawing at you, and I didn’t know whether to look at you or her. You turned her over, slammed into her and then you took hold of her wrists so you could hold her down. I almost came in my pants.”

Dean’s hand stilled on Sam’s hip and Sam wondered if he’d overstepped a line, but Dean’s voice was edged with a dark lust when he spoke, a lust that had a shiver crawling down Sam’s spine.

“You like being held down, Sammy?”

Sam shivered in his arms and nodded. “Yes.”

Dean closed his eyes and nuzzled Sam’s chest. He knew it was entirely possible that he was chained up in some warehouse while a djinn made his wildest dreams come true and fed off his psyche, but he really didn’t care.

“Interesting.” He mauled one of Sam’s nipples

Sam swatted his shoulder and yawned. He snuggled down further and pulled the covers over them.

“But you got to come twice.” 

Sam could hear the pout in Dean’s voice in the darkness and yawned.

“So did you. Go to sleep and I promise to blow you in the morning.”

“Jesus, Sammy, how am I supposed to sleep now?” Dean’s exasperation was overshadowed by Sam’s soft snoring, and he contented himself with holding Sam close as he slept. The protectiveness he had always felt for his little brother went into overdrive and he kissed his dark, unruly hair, smiling as Sam snuffled against him.

He reached over to the nightstand and picked up his phone. One handed, he typed in a short text and pressed send.

“The aliens have landed.”

He got a smiley face straight back. Sam snuggled closer, and Dean fell asleep, happier than he’d been in a long time.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Back in Pittsburgh, Michael and Ted were camped out around their usual table in Babylon, waiting for Emmett to arrive. When he did, he pushed his way through the crowd, glaring at anyone who got in his way.

“What are you wearing?” Ted asked, eyebrows raising at the beaten up leather jacket he’d never seen before.

Michael snorted in his beer when Emmett took the jacket off and revealed the plaid shirt over a tight black t shirt.

“Are you feeling okay?” Ted slapped his hand against Emmet’s forehead.

“I’m fine,” Emmett growled with attitude.

“He’s gone, Em, and I don’t think he’s coming back.” Michael patted his arm.

“Who, Dean? I know he’s gone, and he got his man,” Emmett wiggled his eyebrows. “Hunters always get their man.”

“I think that’s Mounties, not hunters.”

“Whatever. But he did open my eyes to what’s out there. In the dark,” he added dramatically.

“Oh no,” Michael shook his head as Emmet surveyed the crowd. He really hoped this was just another phase.


End file.
